Never Dead
by SuperAplusbroguY
Summary: Captain Rex never questioned his lot in life. He followed orders, kept his opinions to himself, and burned through any enemy that stood against the Republic and his brothers. When his simple outlook on the galaxy is shaken, however, he struggles to maintain a solid grip on what he believes in. Throw in his budding feelings for a certain spunky Togruta Padawan, and well...
1. Enter the Dark

**Never Dead**

**I.** **Enter the Dark**

Rex never considered himself to be an unlucky man. He didn't question his lot, grateful for the things he had. Sure, eighty percent of the Clone Captain's life was spent under heavy blaster fire, but he was fine with that. He existed solely to fight and die for the Republic, as did all of his brothers. That's why they were created.

However, he'd be lying if he said there weren't times he truly hated his job.

Whipping through the air at staggering speeds from being thrown by a pissed off Zatarian, for instance. Rex hit the ground, rolling up to his knee, and catching site of his reptilian opponent sprinting towards him. In addition to their unique build and intellect, the reptilian race that inhabited Mar-Quesoth seemed to value personal honor above all else. This meant that quite a few skirmishes between the Clones and the Zatarians ended in a hand-to-claw duel, when ammo was low or a challenge was issued.

The Republic should have held the advantage this time, since the Clones had no such reservations on the battlefield, but one well-placed EMP charge was enough to cripple the blasters held by the 501st battalion. Living only for the glorious challenge, the Zatarians discarded their own crude, but still-functioning, blasters and stormed the front for a more up close and personal brand of warfare.

For hours, vibroblades severed scales and claws cracked armor. Fangs were sunk in, while helmeted heads butted hissing maws. It was one of the most savage and unorthodox battles Rex had ever been party to. In terms of prowess, the Zatarians were faster, stronger, and practically made to hunt bare-handed. The Clones only saving grace was the durability of their new Phase III armor, and the martial skills of close-quarters training, which the Captain prided himself on.

Most seasoned troopers who had survived a few battles were holding their own, though the situation grew uglier by the minute. The 'shinies', however, were being massacred by the melee oriented creatures; crushed inside their armor or stripped of it then flayed. The damnable lizards took no prisoners.

But then, neither did the General or the Commander.

The odds were evened out considerably with a pair of saber-happy Jedi on the field. Despite the clear disadvantage their claws had against blades of molten light, no Zatarian could resist the chance to do combat with one of the fabled 'defenders of the galaxy', so endless foes continued to fall at the hands of the Master and Padawan for a chance at the unique prey.

Rex was now facing his sixth opponent, fatigue biting at every movement he made. He gripped twin vibroblades, one of them his and the other removed from a Zatarian corpse, and ran to meet the approaching man-eater. The seven foot tall monstrosity swung its lethal talons in a right hook, meant to cut the Clone Captain in half, as soon as he was in range. Rex dropped to the ground and slid between the warrior's legs, skillfully planting both blades deep into its thighs, severing an artery and snapping a femur respectively. He rolled the rest of the way through, nearly avoiding being kneeled on as the wounded Zatarian screeched in agony. He jumped back again, this time to avoid the bladed tail that came down hard on the spot he had just been.

Having lost the use of its legs, the creature kept the skilled clone at bay with swiping claws and a lashing tail. Rex, not being a fan of the waiting game, inched forward just enough to goad the already furious reptile into a mad grab for his lower half, intending to do as much damage as possible before expiring. The Captain responded with a heavily armored boot to his enemy's gaping jaws, resounding in a satisfying crunch that he was sure meant a fatal blow.

The vanquished Zatarian crumpled to the ground, flopping and gargling the rest of its life away, as Rex turned to engage another. It proved to be a mistake, as blinding pain exploded in his leg, bringing him to his knees. Glancing wildly at the source of his suffering, he cursed himself for a fool, as he spied the recently defeated lizard's tail-blade embedded in his thigh.

"Ach…aagh!" The Command Clone threw back his head and shut his eyes momentarily, as he attempted to pull the sharp piece of Zatarian anatomy from his leg. It came free with a nasty '_sloosh_', just in time for another of the lizard species to take notice of the wounded trooper and charge towards him. With a whole lot of luck, and without much thought, Rex launched himself at his next attacker with as much force as he could muster in his current state. The two collided with a heavy smack, as their combined weight and momentum brought them to the ground, where the Captain proceeded to sheathe his new makeshift tail-blade dagger into the winded reptilian warrior beneath him, repeatedly.

His foe had hardly had a chance to get his bearings before he lay completely still beneath Rex's form. Struggling to get up and return to the battle, he lifted as much of his own weight as he could before his arms gave out completely from pain and exhaustion. He never hit the ground, as a pair of strong, familiar arms caught him in their embrace, lifting him the rest of the way to his feet. They were his arms. The arms of a brother. Rex looked up into the visor of one of his longest lasting troopers, Spaz. He'd been around nearly as long as the Command Clone himself.

"Easy there, Captain," the battered private said, through the distorted filter in his bucket. "The battle's damn near over, and the kriffin' lizards are high-tailing it back to whatever dump they crawled out of. The General and the Commander are cleaning up the last of 'em." Rex had never been more thankful to hear his own voice before, especially when it was informing him of their victory.

"Well done, trooper. Looks like you've been through Mustafar and back," the Clone Captain joked, earning him a chuckle from Spaz. The man's armor was littered with gouges and scars from heavy close-quarters combat with the viscous race of Reptiles, while the blue-ish stains were a testament to his kills. Rex was sure he didn't look any better, proven by his comrade's next words.

"You're one to talk, sir." The mirth was still present in his voice, and in his relaxed body language.

Yet, how quickly a simple moment of post-battle humor could turn into a nightmare in the blink of an eye.

Having assumed the day's warfare was concluded, both men made the biggest mistake any soldier could make. They let their guards down. A Zatarian wielding a cloaking device had managed to get directly behind Spaz during their brief respite, and broke the unassuming trooper's neck, revealing himself in the process. The poor clone never knew what hit him, and he never would. Just as he would never survive another battle with his Captain, or share a good cup of caff with Kix, or play that annoying violin in the barracks at all hours.

Horror, sadness, and pure, unbridled rage coursed through Rex with unimaginable intensity, as he watched his brother's body crumple to the ground at the feet of the sneering Zatarian who killed him. Where was the honor, now? Where was their kriffing code, now?! The Clone Captain did the one thing he hadn't done since he was a shiny. He lost control.

"Grraaaaaaaaaaagh!" Rex screamed with fury, disregarding his wounded leg completely, and slammed himself into the offender with all of his might. He smashed his helmeted head into its face, while bringing them both to the blood-soaked ground, the Zatarian having lost its balance at being caught unaware. It had assumed the blue one was injured and would prove no difficulty. The unlucky lizard barely had time to register its mistake.

Before the two combatants had even made it all the way to the ground, Rex jammed both of his thumbs into the eyes of his prey with much vigor, savoring the agonized screams of the Zatarian beneath him. It jerked and writhed, trying to rid itself of the torment by digging its claws into the seasoned killer's arms. Rex didn't even feel the pain. All he could feel was the rush of blue tinged blood running over his gloved hands, and it felt good. His own roar of fury overpowered the screeches of the dying lizard.

He was faintly aware of a high pitched voice calling his name, desperation and fear present in the tone, but he paid it about as much mind as the blood seeping steadily from his leg. Ignoring any outside disturbances, Rex fully submerged himself in his hatred for the creature at his mercy, putting all the weight he could behind his locked arms. When it became apparent that the Zatarian still wasn't giving up its struggle to survive, the berserk Captain withdrew his left hand, balled it into a fist, and crammed it into the flailing reptile's gaping maw.

He shoved with all of his strength, trying to crush, suffocate, or simply disembowel his target via its own throat. Gagging and hacking on the intrusion, the unfortunate native of Mar-Quesoth shuddered one last time before an audible snap was heard. It seemed Rex had pushed just hard enough to shatter its spinal cord, stilling the creature completely, as death claimed another soul that day.

Finally, the instrument of war personified staggered to his feet, and took in the sight around him, shaking from adrenaline.

The surviving members of the 501st, or at least the ones not being carried away on stretchers, were gathered in a tight circle around the clearing Rex was standing in. Not a single trooper stirred or made a sound, as they had watched the brutal execution before them. Scanning the crowd, his eyes locked themselves onto the concerned visage of General Skywalker, brows furrowed in silent contemplation of what he had just witnessed. The battered Captain's heart sank the moment he laid eyes on Ahsoka, however.

His beloved Commander was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes, both hands covering her mouth. He could see confusion and worry swirling in the depths of those sapphire gems, and it nearly killed him on the spot to hear the tremor in her voice when she finally spoke.

"Rex?" she uttered softly.

It clicked in the Command Clone's brain that Ahsoka had never seen this side of him before. He had always kept his cool around her, standing guard as the calm and collected rock that she needed him to be. Never wavering in the slightest, no matter the circumstances. And he had just torn it all down the moment he lost his mind on that freakish excuse for a lizard.

_No. Why did she have to see?_ He thought with regret.

He slowly started to turn and stagger away, head hung in shame. He didn't want the little Togruta to see him like this any longer, let alone the General and his brothers. He barely made it three steps before collapsing in the arms of several brothers who were quick to act when his steps began to falter. He'd forgotten all about his injury in the heat of the moment, and had most likely lost quite a bit of blood.

"Rex!" Ahsoka was at his side in a flash.

Her fretful, yet gorgeous features were the last thing his eyes beheld before passing out from blood loss.

* * *

**Till next chapter...**

**SuperAplusbroguY**


	2. Aftershocks

**Never Dead**

**II. Aftershocks **

Upon slowly stirring from unconsciousness, Rex opened his eyes groggily to get his bearings. He clamped them shut again, as pain struck his pupils and spots flooded his vision. Blinding lights, antiseptic smell. The Captain cursed his luck.

Medbay.

_I hate the frakking medbay_, he thought, with an accompanying groan of annoyance. _Every time I end up here its endless scolding from Kix, and an unforeseeable amount of time off the field._

That last thought made him particularly uncomfortable. His place was on the front lines, now and forever. With the action. With his men.

_With her._

Rex's thoughts were derailed as a grumpy medic made his presence known.

"Rex, what did I tell you would happen the next time I found your sorry shebs in my medbay?"

_And not a moment too soon._

"S'not your medbay, Kix. It belongs to the Republic." Rex responded, still somewhat loopy from the drugs.

Wait. Drugs? Medbay?

_Blasted bacta hangovers! What the hell am I even doing in here? _

Opening his eyes, again, he allowed them to adjust to the lighting this time. Kix was frowning down at him over a datapad, with a cocked brow. Ignoring him for the moment, Rex lifted his head off of the cot he was assigned, to inspect his form. Ah, yes. Now, how could he have forgotten that little detail?

His left thigh was bandaged heavily from whatever treatment mended the wound from his Zatarian combatant. It shouldn't have needed more than a simple bacta soak. Apparently, it had been worse than the command clone anticipated.

_Well, it had hurt quite a bit, if I recall correctly._

It all came back to him through the med-induced haze. He wished it hadn't. Frowning at the course his mind set itself on, he tried not to think about how he'd last seen his troops and his favorite little jedi. He'd made a wookie of himself in front of Torrent squadron, practically on a quest to dismember a Zatarian. How could his control have slipped so easily from his grasp, when he had once prided himself on being one of the coolest heads on the _Resolute_? A clone captain cannot expect to effectively lead a battalion without a clear mind.

Maybe he was slipping. Cracking from the pressure. Reaching his breaking point. No! Those scenarios were unacceptable. He was Captain Rex of the 501st. He would _not_ falter. But the question that mattered more to him than he'd like to admit was: Would they think differently of him now, after seeing what he was capable of, at his worst? Would Ahsoka think differently of him?

Kix followed Rex's line of sight, and his frown deepened. "Tissue and muscle damage was a simple fix," the trusted medical officer began to address the issue, "repairing your nicked artery and fractured femur, however, was a pain in my shebs."

Rex let his head thump back onto the med-cot, as he endured the onslaught of things he didn't want to hear.

"The rest of you was practically riddled with lacerations and bruising alike. In Phase III armor! Which is expensive to repair and thoroughly damaged now, thanks for that. And blood transfusions don't just stand by, waiting for careless clones. Really, Captain? It needs ample time and skill to…"

Kix's ranting was somewhat therapeutic to the Captain's overtaxed, and still slightly buzzed, mind. The medic rambled on, as he seemed to realize the calming effect it had on Rex. It helped to ease the severity of the subject.

"…You'd think you were a shinie again, right out of basic, with the measure of caution you take, which is none! Making my job harder, my shift longer, taking up one of my beds-"

"Spaz is gone."

Rex hadn't realized he spoke until Kix halted mid-speech. He didn't know why he said that. But, he felt as if he had to. It was quiet for a few moments, both clones thinking among the silence of the nearly empty medical center.

"I know." The medic spoke finally, clearing his throat. "Not many of us first generation left on board."

"You, me, Axel, and Brody. That's it." Rex responded, flatly.

That was all of them. The last of the first batch. The remaining members of the original line-up of the 501st.

"I heard his killer wasn't far behind him when they left this world, curtesy of a loyal brother's fury."

Rex's heavy eyes slid shut the rest of the way at those words, obscuring the ceiling he'd been staring at from view. A sigh escaped him, and he slowly brought himself into an upright seated position, shoulders slumping.

"If anything, the men respect that brother far more now, than they ever had before, which is a feat in and of itself." Kix asserted this point with hand on the Captain's shoulder.

Rex nodded slowly, understanding everything the gruff medic was conveying.

"In any case," he spoke up suddenly, and a whole lot less seriously, "you should make a full recovery long before we reach the next system. Lucky di'kut."

At these words, the stubborn Captain made to hop off the edge of the cot in a rush to leave this hell, but was met with a wave of dizziness. After a few seconds of shaking his head, Kix's smirking profile was directed at him.

"How long was I out?" Rex dared to ask.

"Well, given the substantial stress on your body from the wounds and adrenaline, not to mention the near fatal amount of blood loss, and the time it took to remedy all of that, I'd say: 3 days, by my count." The medic's lingering smug look, and the constant glances towards a visitors chair by his bedside, told Rex all he needed to know.

He groaned with a touch of guilt, "Tell me she at least got some sleep."

Kix chuckled, "You know the Commander. When you're out of commission, she's out of commission. She'd probably still be here, if the General hadn't had to practically pry her from your side for some important Jedi Council summons or something."

All joking aside now, Kix helped Rex to his feet. "She was in ruff shape while you were under, sir. You might want to talk with her as soon as you get the chance."

Nodding, his agreement, Rex began to take it slow and steady towards the door. Being dressed in a simple white shirt and pants from the medbay, his progress was unhindered by the weight of his armor, and yet his leg already started to ache from use. The man who'd seen a hundred battles ignored it, and waved over his shoulder. "Thanks again for the patch job, Kix, you'll make a wonderful nurse someday."

"Yeah, yeah, get the hell out of my medbay already, blondie. Oh and hurt yourself again, and we'll have some more words." Kix barked back with mirth.

Rex strode out the doors with a small grin on his face.

_Say what you will, but the man sure can take the bite out of a near death experience, _Rex thought fondly.

* * *

"…and may the force be with you, Masters." General Anakin Skywalker said, as a farewell to the glowing blue images of the council members, before they all winked out of existence.

"Finally!" Ahsoka let out a relieved sigh that the session was over. She had never enjoyed being party to the council, apart from seeing a few of her favored masters again. They bickered far too much nowadays, and half of the decisions they make conflict with her own thoughts on the matter.

"Ahsoka," Anakin drawled out her name in a poorly faked scolding tone, which was being ruined even further by the slow formation of a rebellious smile. "You should have more respect for the council."

Ahsoka couldn't help but snort at the pitiful effort. "Oh, that's rich. You're one to talk, Skyguy."

Her master chuckled along with her, as she made for the door exiting the holo-room, trying to keep her strides as calm as possible. "He's not gonna float away, Snips." Apparently, she hadn't tried hard enough. She should've known her master would see right through her. He always could.

Resting her forehead on the door, Ahsoka let her hand fall to her side, mid-journey to the glowing keypad that opened the door. She could practically feel his concerned eyes boring into her back from across the dimly lit room. "I know, master."

Anakin kept his tone soft, trying to coax his Padawan into opening up to him. "I mean, I've seen you shaken up when Rex was injured on multiple occasions, but never to the extent as to where you were this …off."

"I've never seen him like that, before, master." Ahsoka turned to her mentor, with a look of apprehension. "Rex getting himself injured is nothing new, but Rex going ballistic? I'd probably have laughed at the notion before the battle on Mar-Quesoth."

Skywalker only nodded his head, a contemplative look on his face. "I'll admit, it definitely caught me of guard, as well. He seemed pretty far gone."

"That's what I'm saying. He was completely unresponsive, master. Before, all I had to do was call his name, and no matter how far away he was on the battlefield, he was by my side in seconds. But, when he had that Zatarian pinned, and I cried out to him, it was like…like-"

"Like he couldn't even hear you." Anakin finished for her, dark memories resurfacing. He stomped them down. His Padawan needed him now.

The troubled Togruta slumped into a nearby chair, nodding her head slowly. "Yeah."

The two sat in silence thinking over their captain's behavior, the only sounds being the small beeps and varied mechanical tones of the holo-room. Ahsoka was somewhat comforted by the sounds of the ever-reliable workings of the _Resolute, _her home. After what seemed like an hour of comfortable quiet, she finally spoke up once more.

"I just… I just wanted-needed to hear those words. The words he always says when he wakes up in the medbay, all cranky from everyone's unnecessary concern. That 'he's alright'. That no matter what kind of hit he took, he would be alright."

Standing from her seat, the Padawan to the chosen one made her way to the door, once more. "After seeing him like that, I need to hear those words again, now more than ever," without turning towards her master she finished her thought, while crossing the threshold, "I need to know that he's okay."

Anakin was now left alone with his thoughts, in a room muddled with his padawan's lingering emotions.

* * *

**A sappy one, but what the hell do ya want? Sorry for the long wait, by the way. Work isn't very accommodating to my writing habits. I'll try to update sooner for my, like, 5 fans.**

**Laters...**

**SuperAplusbroguY**


	3. Mending

**How's it goin'? Been a while, huh? Yeah. I have no excuse. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for baring with me.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Never Dead**

**III. Mending**

Rex limped steadily down the familiar halls of the _Resolute_, easing as much weight onto his recovering leg as he dared, as if he could speed up the healing process through sheer will alone. The quicker he recovered, the sooner he'd be back on the field. The bacta treatment and Kix' expertise repaired most of the damage, but his wounded limb still needed time to readjust to active use before he'd be seeing any action.

…And the Captain lived for action.

The standard hustle and bustle of the Republic cruiser was somewhat therapeutic to the injured clone, and it slowly soothed his mind into a comfortable state of routine. The crew of his beloved ship rushed here and there, applying maintenance where needed and seeing to the overall wellness of his home. Curtains of bright cosmic light streamed in from the duraglass windows and glinted off of the sleek metals of the ship's interior, making for an almost surreal setting, as Rex trekked ever further towards his destination: the training hall.

He needed to get his leg in better shape before the next planetary campaign began. He wouldn't let his men down again. He _wouldn't_. The scene from Mar-Quesoth continued to haunt him as he walked, instilling an almost child-like fear of bumping into one of his troopers, or more terrifying yet, the Commander.

The lift was miraculously void of any passengers, much to Rex's relief, and he enjoyed a quiet descent down to the PT level. He took this time to examine the condition of his leg thoroughly, and was left with little to complain about. The flesh of his thigh had mended itself anew and left only moderate scarring. The muscle beneath responded to the signals from his brain easily enough, and the only real bother at this point was the persistent ache felt at bone depth. Bacta works miracles on tissue. Bones, not so much. The fractured femur must have required some serious surgery, and if the annoying semi-throbbing was anything to go by, it meant he was still far from optimal condition and had his work cut out for him.

The doors of the lift parted when it reached its destination, and Rex was beyond pleased to find himself greeted by an empty training hall. An empty lift was one thing, but an abandoned training hall…

"I am _never_ this lucky," the Captain mused to himself, looking around warily for the other shoe to drop. "Heh, must be dinner." He checked the chrono on the wall above a peculiar set of weights. It read: 1721, in blue LED numerals. Just a few minutes past the start of the evening meal, which meant a packed mess hall, overrun with ravenous clones. No one would be disturbing Rex for the remainder of the hour, if his assessment of his brothers' appetites was correct, and he liked to think it was, since he had the exact same metabolism. Well, no one except the Commander. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that she wouldn't come looking for him. He knew the compassionate padawan far too well for that. He could only hope to get as much exercise in as possible before the inevitable confrontation.

With the whole facility to himself, the command clone set about leisurely adjusting the various equipment to his preferences with practiced ease. The familiar ambience of the fitness chamber lulling him into a sense of peace, as Captain Rex began pushing his body to the limit and testing the waters of his recovering leg. When the sweat began to fall, he closed his eyes and reveled in the burn.

* * *

Ahsoka's brisk steps carried her ever closer to the Medbay and the man currently occupying her thoughts. She weaved her way through the throngs of hungry troopers as they swarmed towards the mess hall, trying to work out in her mind exactly what it was she would say to Rex when she saw him. She was fairly certain that he wouldn't want to talk about Mar-Quesoth. The young togruta wasn't even sure that _she_ wanted to talk about it, and yet she knew he needed to have it out. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't avoid the topic as much as possible.

More than that, however, she just wanted to see her captain. No, _needed_, to see him. The last she'd seen of him, he was in agony, both physically and emotionally. His pain rippled through the force with such intensity, that Ahsoka had felt every excruciating second of it. Hatred, sorrow, shock, betrayal, self-loathing… and anger. So much anger. None of those emotions suited Rex. Not the man she knew. Not _her_ Rex.

It unsettled the young padawan, not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid _for_ him. In his frenzy, the berserk captain had completely disregarded a gushing leg wound and any further damage sustained, just to crush the life out of the enemy at his mercy. This was not healthy behavior for a usually calm and reserved soldier like Rex. It certainly wasn't doing her heart any favors, as she'd nearly driven herself insane with worry until Kix assured her that he was in stable condition and wouldn't be dying on them anytime soon. Just the thought of a world without Rex was enough to make Ahsoka shudder, and cause a lump to form in her throat.

She wouldn't last long in such a world.

Finally freeing herself from the dinner mob, Ahsoka ate up the remaining distance between herself and the medbay in record time. She wasn't concerned about missing a meal, knowing that she wouldn't be able to stomach a single bite until her captain was back at her side, as it was meant to be. The sleek duraglass doors parted to reveal the bright sterile environment that made up the Resolute's medical center. Rows of cots supported various recovering troopers as the occasional medical droid drifted by to check conditions and apply meds when needed.

To Ahsoka's surprise, there was no comatose captain awaiting her this time. Another clone now occupied his cot, a snide fellow by the name of Tork, if memory served her correctly. Though she was concerned for this trooper and his injuries, as she was for all under her command, he wasn't the soldier she had been hoping to find. Had Rex been discharged already?

Scanning the rest of the room with her luminous eyes, the eager togruta tried to quash her growing anxiousness. That is until…

"Evening, Commander."

"Aah!" Ahsoka leapt a full foot in the air before spinning around to face a grinning Kix, hand still clutching at her erratic heartbeat.

"Dammit, Kix, don't do that!" The startled padawan griped. "You're gonna give me a coronary one of these days."

The sneaky medic erupted into laughter at his commander's reaction, the look of shock and indignation she wore being too much for him to bare. Ahsoka folded her arms and pouted at the exaggerated display of hilarity at her expense. This just caused Kix to laugh harder. His self-preservation instincts kicked in, however, when he caught sight of her eyes narrowing and her fingers tapping impatiently, as if to say: 'Are you done?'

"Apologies, Commander," Kix gasped, his laughter slowly subsiding into small interspersed chuckles. "It's not every day one finds himself able to sneak up on a Jedi. Your face was priceless!"

Rolling her eyes, the good-natured padawan let the seriousness in her expression melt away in favor of her customary smirk. "Not every day?! Are you kidding? You catch me off guard _at least_ once a day! Usually when it concerns something that I don't want to hear."

"Ah, but you were easy pickings today, Commander, distracted as you were." Kix shot back playfully, with a knowing look.

The chevrons on Ahsoka's lekku darkened in response to the subtle jab, as she nibbled her lip and began playing with her hands. They both knew full well why she was distracted. The head medic couldn't seem to help himself, though, and continued to play stupid. The Commander was in rare form today, and he'd be passing up an even more rare opportunity if he were to let her slide without some ribbing.

"So what brings you to my humble medbay?" He asked, as if she hadn't just been there an hour ago, glued to a chair beside her comatose captain.

Ahsoka's expression flattened, as she fixed the incorrigible clone with a dry stare that practically screamed: 'Really? Really?'

Kix simply continued to feign ignorance, the smug glint in his eye nearly undoing his innocent façade.

"For force sake, Kix, is he here or not?!" The exasperated padawan sighed.

"Hm? Is who here, sir?" Evil smile.

Ahsoka was gritting her teeth now. When had Kix become so damned cheeky. Kriffing clones, and their rotten sense of humor.

"The Captain left about twenty minutes ago, with a clean bill of health," the head medic finally caved, taking pity on the restless Jedi. "It's anyone's guess where he is now."

"Jeez, was that so hard?"

"I was having fun."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes again and spun around to exit the room, but not before knocking over a jar of cotton swabs with a wave of her hand and a small nudge from the force.

_That'll teach ya._

Kix' jaw dropped at the petty display of vengeance. "Oh, real mature, Commander!" He squawked, proceeding to clean up the childish offense to his spotless medbay.

"Let that be a lesson, trooper."

Ahsoka could barely keep the mirth out of her voice, as she made her escape. Served him right. She had bigger jaig-eyed fish to fry, anyhow.

_And I know exactly where to find my quarry._

The determined togruta found a new skip to her step, as her strides brought her ever closer to the training hall and her captain.

* * *

**Sorry again for the lengthy dry spell. I can only beg for your forgiveness. I won't, but I can.**

**I noticed the ending note to the previous chapter sounded kind of snide/passive-aggressive, like I was fishing for reviewers, which is not cool. That was really just a failed attempt at dry humor. No need to rank yourselves as my "fans" anymore, lol. Thanks, though!**

**See ya 'round, hopefully sooner than last time...**

**SuperAplusbroguY**


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